Prayer for the Dying
by Troll Princess
Summary: Highlander/Buffy crossover -- Xander Harris has a couple of surprises for his best friends in the world ...
1. Default Chapter

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Author's note: Argh ... disregard my previous posting of this story, would ya? My Text2Web program has an itty bit kink in the system ... *sigh*   
  
Disclaimer: No one in this story is mine. The "Buffy" characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, if I'm covering my bases right, and the "Highlander" references all go back to Gregory Widen, Rysher Entertainment, yadda yadda.   
  
****************************   
  
Prayer for the Dying   
A Buffy/Highlander Crossover   
by Troll Princess   
  
****************************   
  
  
She says it so casually. You ever notice that? "I died." "It was only for a little while." Buffy treats it the way I've been wishing I could treat it for the past two and a half years. And she only did it once.   
  
Amateur.   
  
It never really came as a surprise to me ... dying, that is. I think Willow and I saw it coming long before it actually happened. Even now, even as she goes about her little Wiccan life with her little Wiccan girlfriend, she doesn't know that what the two of us were afraid was going to happen one day is already long past.   
  
I snapped my neck. That was how it happened, the first time. Mom comes home pissed off from working her second job at the supermarket, and Dad's piss drunk in the living room in front of the TV. They fight, and he throws a couple of things he knows she's going to miss against the farthest wall, and then I come out of my bedroom, all hot and bothered, all ready to be the mama's boy and protect her.   
  
Trouble is, he knew she'd miss me.   
  
I woke up at the foot of the basement stairs, and she was watching me. I've never seen eyes that wide before.   
  
Tell him he was drunk. Tell him he dreamed the whole thing. Tell him the blood on my shirt was red paint. Tell him ... tell him anything but what we'd patched together on our own, because if we were right, he'd try his damndest to prove us wrong.   
  
He'd throw me down stairs all over again. Off buildings. Off bridges. Into towering infernos and onto my own sword.   
  
Sword ... huh. I almost forgot the sword.   
  
I can't believe I almost forgot my third arm.   
  
It's what it's become, you know. Two and a half years of stuffing it into coats it won't fit into, two and a half years of hiding reflexes grown through practice and muscles a sidekick like me isn't supposed to have, even if he does spend his nights slaughtering bloodsuckers and demons with his best friends.   
  
They say I'm the heart of the group. And when they say it, or imply it, I take it like I'm supposed to. I smile, play the self-conscious normal one, maybe flash Anya one of those knowing looks of ours. But all I can think of is brain death.   
  
Yeah, big old creepy, I know. And maybe I'm being Mr. Joe Non-College Student here, but if I'm figuring it right, in brain death, brain dies, body dies ... heart goes last. Bullshit, or coincidence?   
  
I mentioned Anya knows, right? I don't think I could have ever lied to her, even before she found the obviously used broadsword under my bed. But I think it just made it harder ... that first day we slept together, and she finds my sword.   
  
She knew what it was, of course. She'd been alive over a thousand years. How could she not know? She didn't know that the sword had been handed over to me by the man who'd first found me, after I'd died once again at the hands of some vamp I hadn't even heard coming. That he'd trained me as best he could before going home to San Francisco. That he'd been beheaded by some cock-sure kid who'd made a mistake.   
  
All she knew was that she'd leaned over the bed to pick up her bra and discovered that the man she'd fallen in love with was an Immortal.   
  
I think she could have just come out and said she was still in love with me afterwards. Getting to know her later, with the doctorate in all things Anya I have now, I'm positive of it. But that sword ...   
  
It took her a while to get used to the idea of dating an Immortal. And sometimes, I think she forgets about it. She's never come close to mentioning it in front of the others, which I'm grateful for. Truth is, I'd much rather they stayed in the dark on this one. Buffy would want to fight my fights for me, like always. Dawn would be worried sick for me. Willow, too. And with Willow worried, Tara closes up the rear in the worried department.   
  
I think Giles knows already.   
  
He hasn't said anything to me. But sometimes, I catch him staring at me, watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I get all self-conscious and start checking for the sword.   
  
Yup. Still there.   
  
Will I ever tell them? Oh, the truth will come out sooner or later, like it or not. One of these days, Buffy and Wills are going to notice I haven't gotten any older. Tara's not going to be able to ignore that funny feeling she gets around me any longer. And Dawn ... well, Dawn's a fourteen-year-old girl who's got a crush on me. She'll pick up on something.   
  
I keep thinking back to that demon, the one who broke me in two. Suddenly, there I was ... the paranoid kid I was at heart, and the mature, responsible man I'd had to grow into too fast. Thing was, I'd been hiding that man behind the kid for far too long.   
  
So tomorrow, come hell or high water, Immortal or demon, I'm going to walk into the Magic Box with sword in hand. I'm going to put it down on the counter next to the four obituaries of the men I've killed. And I'm going to tell my family -- my *only* family -- the truth.   
  
I, Alexander Harris, am Immortal.   
  
And one day, Tara will be, too. Tomorrow, in fact.   
  
Hope she won't be wearing a nice shirt. Bulletholes are a bitch to sew up.   
  
  


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	2. Prayer for the Dying -- Chapter One

**Converted by Text2Web**

  
Author's note: Well, due to positive feedback, I'm going to keep going with this story, adding on two additional little things -- first off, an extra title (as if one just wasn't enough), which leads into my next addition. I did have a whole plan set up for if I want to go on with this story (which I do), but I had this absolutely faboo idea today, and that means adding another show into the crossover mix. So hold onto your trenchcoats, ladies and gents ... :)   
  
Disclaimer: Basically, I'm just repeating this because of the additional crossover stuff. Everybody in here is not mine. I don't own any of the Highlander characters, who don't appear in person and will probably only be in-jokes anyway -- it's the mythology I'm borrowin', buds. The Highlander stuff all ends up back in Gregory Widen and Rysher Entertainment, etc. Neither do the characters from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and the town of Sunnydale, which both belong to the twisted and devious mind of God, otherwise known to the DMV as Joss Whedon. Also -- and here's the addition -- the character of Adam Newman and all the "Tomorrow People" stuff belongs to Roger Damon Price. Okay, done now. *G*   
  
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Prayer for the Dying   
or, Headless and Hopeless in Sunnydale   
A Highlander/Buffy/Tomorrow People   
Crossover   
by Troll Princess   
********************************   
  
So you get a phone call at 3 o'clock in the morning, and it's a drop-dead gorgeous woman practically begging in that sultry voice of hers to listen to what she has to say. Do you: A.) listen intently, and take one-handed notes? B.) kindly request her phone number and a more convenient time to call her back? Or C.) fake a loud snore and hang up?   
  
I picked C.). And anyone questioning my intelligence at this point should at least hear me out.   
  
The phone rings, it's late at night, and I'm tired. I've got a construction job that lasts all day long. I hang out with my friends for a while, then duck back home for romantic girlfriend time and a little private time with a sharp instrument of death. Then I finally get to see my bed again. Trust me, by 3 in the morning, I am not in the best of moods. I'm not even in the worst of moods. I'm in a nondescript comatose mood.   
  
So I pick up the phone to hang it up again, and hear a soft, "Xander? Are you there?"   
  
This is a voice I once heard whisper sweet nothings in my ear right before shouting sweet nothings at my face. Needless to say, I recognized it.   
  
Which is why I snored and hung up.   
  
A brief explanation on the voice. It belongs to one Cordelia Chase, who made my life hell for something like a year. She was vapid, she was insensitive, she was arrogant ... and from the insistent ringing of my telephone, she apparently didn't take "ZZZZZ" for an answer.   
  
So I answered. "What?" I snapped.   
  
Silence. Then, "Xander? Is that you?"   
  
Something in the way she spoke made me groan into my pillow. I could almost hear the wince through the phone. If she was calling me this late at night -- or early in the morning, depending on your point of view -- it couldn't be good. "Yes, Cordy, it's me."   
  
"I'm sorry I'm calling so late. I just ... I had a bad dream." Then, softer, "A vision."   
  
I didn't think I was supposed to hear that part, so I ignored it as I sat up in bed, silently thanked the powers that be that Anya hadn't slept over, and glanced over at the clock on my nightstand again. "That's why you called me at three in the morning on a Tuesday?" Oh, wait. Three in the morning ... "A Wednesday? Because you had a bad dream? Cordy, I'd love to talk, but --"   
  
"I know what you are."   
  
You know that shy little whisper you hear movies when someone has something very important to say and doesn't know how to say it in anything above a whisper?   
  
"I know what you are." In almost every context imaginable, that's not good. In my case, coming from Cordelia, it's ... well, it's still bad. It's just, if she was calling me for the reason I was thinking of, my night ... morning ... whatever, had just gone from bad to worse.   
  
*************************   
  
Everybody has their little secrets. Buffy's is that she's a Slayer. Dawn's is that she's really a great, big, glowing green mass of destructive energy. Giles's involves Buffy's mother and the roof of a police car, two images that should not be in the same embarrassing little secret.   
  
Mine is this thing where I can't die.   
  
Really, I can't. Not in any of the conventional ways, anyway. Before I actually knew why -- and after I found out why, I felt galactically stupid about the whole thing -- I tried stabbing, shooting, a hammer, and suffocation with my own body pillow.   
  
First off, ow. And second off, my secret is a little more complicated than just not dying.   
  
Do you have any idea how good I've gotten at hiding injuries? How many times I've had to turn "cerebral hemorrhage" into "Really, I'm fine, just need an Advil"? How many times I've had to joke away sensing another of my kind as "hearing those pesky kill-the-cast-of-"Survivor" voices again"?   
  
I'm Immortal. Not immortal ... Immortal. With a capital I.   
  
In case you didn't know, that changes the rules. And where there's rules, there's a Game.   
  
Unfortunately, that had been my whole problem ever since my father pushed me down those basement steps.   
  
*************************   
  
So, right. The phone call.   
  
I'm supposed to be upbeat, right? Take the whole thing in stride, play it off as if I don't know what she's talking about, right? Right. "What are you talking about?"   
  
"Xander, just ... just give me a second, all right? I'll explain, but I woke up with this pounding headache and I ..." She paused again, this heavy pause where she breathed a little heavier than she probably should have. "God, Xander, why didn't you tell me you couldn't die?"   
  
I expected Cordy to say a lot of things. That was not one of them.   
  
My silence gave her enough of an opportunity to start talking again. "Did you know that I was having visions? There was this demon guy who was working for Angel, and he was going to die, and he had the visions, and he kissed me and now I have the visions and I'm babbling, aren't I?"   
  
She laughed, nervous and sniffly, and I figured out she'd been crying. Why the hell would she cry about something like this?   
  
"You could have told me. I wouldn't have worried so much when we were going out. It's not like I mind or anything, I just ... I just wish you wouldn't have kept this from me like you kept the whole Willow thing ... oh, right, Willow ..."   
  
She was rambling. I was fairly sure I was about to hear about some sniffling account of our sad and sordid dating history all over again. And then she went and asked me something totally out of left field.   
  
"What does Willow's girlfriend look like?"   
  
"Tara?" I was all ready to answer just out of instinct, but stopped. I didn't know why she'd want to know about Tara, what the hell she was trying to get at, and most of all, how she had found out that I was Immortal.   
  
Suddenly things started clicking in my head, and my gaze went to the broadsword propped up next to my bed.   
  
I'd had a strange feeling when Tara was near from the first time I met her, something I'd never been able to explain but always felt as if I should recognize. If my teacher had still been alive, I would have asked him if what I thought I was sensing was true.   
  
But if what Cordelia was saying held merit, I'd been right all along.   
  
"Xander, I need you to do something for me, would you?"   
  
She was emotional, really upset. I'd never heard her this distraught before. I think at that point in the conversation, I would have offered to get her groceries, give her a full-body massage, and slay a few dragons while I was at it. She sounded that awful.   
  
"Yeah, sure, Cordelia. What?"   
  
"First, I need you to shoot Tara."   
  
Okay, I'm sorry. Even in retrospect, does that still sound as impossible as it sounded to me at three o'clock in the morning?   
  
"Cordy, I --"   
  
"And I need you to do it in front of the Scoobies. All of them."   
  
Did you ever get that feeling that you were taking a test you hadn't studied for in a class you hadn't taken? I was so flustered, the only thing that seemed to want to come out of my mouth was, "Why?"   
  
The line went silent again. Then, in that shy stage whisper again, Cordy said, "Because if you don't, millions of people are going to die."   
  
Oh.   
  
****************************   
  
There are moments of quiet reflect in a person's life. There's the moment he has his first kiss. The moment he slays his first vampire. That beautiful time when he loads a gun and gets ready to shoot his best friend's lover.   
  
Don't they make movies of the week about this?   
  
Yeah, Tara was going to get shot, all right. And yeah, I was going to be the one to do the dirty work. It's not like I had a lot of choice in the matter. Millions of dead people versus Shoot-Her-Down-She-Shoots-Back-Up Tara. Decisions, decisions.   
  
Cordy'd better be right.   
  
Hell, I'd better be right.   
  
I'm twenty years old and I've already beheaded four men. If what I had been feeling around Tara wasn't imminent Immortality, Willow was never going to forgive me.   
  
Heh ... you know, it didn't hit me until right now.   
  
That I never thought for once about whether or not I'd be able to forgive myself.   
  
  


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	3. Prayer for the Dying -- Chapter Two

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***************************Chapter Two*************************** 

Buffy once asked me why I believed Cordelia enough to load a gun and pack a sword. 

Truth? You had to be there. It's not like we're cut off from Dead Boy and his gang of flunkies down in L.A. We do know what goes on down there, maybe a little more than some of us would like to. And the Cordy having visions thing ... well, I wasn't surprised by it, let's put it that way. 

Cordelia said that she'd never had visions as strong as the ones that had been assaulting her for the past few nights, waking her out of a dead sleep. Images of innocent young men and women being slaughtered. Chanting racists stringing up some defenseless kid who couldn't even fight back. 

Tara, hiding out on some tropical island, broken down, feeling all of the pain on earth coursing through her as the rest of the world tore itself apart. 

Cordelia said she'd broken down herself because she knew what Tara would go through. I was going to take her word for it. 

Usually, the visions were for Angel. Get the image, feed the information to the bloodsucker, sit back and wait for him to save the day. Yeah ... usually. 

This time, when the visions were coming on the fastest and the strongest, Cordelia knew they'd been meant for me. And somehow, she'd known why. Which was why I was suddenly the guns blazing type. 

*"Protect her, Xander. They want you to protect her. Always."* 

Okay. Fine. Whatever. 

*************************** 

I'm better with a sword than Buffy. Isn't that weird? 

It was all I could think about as I walked towards the Magic Box, sword in coat and gun in pocket, people staring at me all the way. How I'd had more practice with a sword than she had. 

Looking for a resume? Walter Jeffries, 407 years old. Currently interred at Pine Hills Memorial Cemetery. Matthew Avalon, something like fifteen hundred years old. Currently in a big golden urn in his wife's law office. I saw it there myself. But, yadda, yadda, yadda. You get the idea. 

I watched her once, training with a blade against Giles in the back of the Magic Box. Too short for her arms, too heavy to be wielded with any accuracy. I know she didn't notice me, take in the intense way I studied her footwork, her reach, the fluid dance of the sword through the air. She has to know how to handle every weapon Giles has on hand -- if she specialized, she'd be a hell of a lot better at it. 

As it is, I could take her in a heartbeat. 

Giles is right -- she drops her shoulders for certain moves. Does this little half-dance before striking. Cocks her head slightly to the left before going for a head shot. And that's just the ones I could have pointed out off the bat. 

Teach once said I was a natural. I was the best he'd seen with a blade in the hundred and fifty years he'd been alive. I memorized other people's moves and tells without even thinking about it. I was strong, I'd stay strong, and I was smarter than I let on. 

There aren't a lot of twenty-year-old Immortals who've managed to kill four men. There's a reason for that. So if I walked into that store pointing a gun at Tara and Buff came at me with a sword, I could take her down. The problem came if she tried to attack me with anything else in existence. 

**************************** 

The day before I faced down Jack and the bomb in the basement of Sunnydale High, my teacher said he had taken one look into my eyes and known that I was this close to coming out to my friends and admitting I was an Immortal. That for a split second, I just wanted ... I don't know. To fit in. To be, for lack of a better word, normal. 

But then I faced down that bomb, and that cocky, bragging toddler of an Immortal was taken over by a mature adult. After all, what would Willow and Buffy think if I were sent home in a body bag, and then popped back up again, all better? 

Well, probably "Eww." But I digress. 

I tried to summon up that responsible straight-thinking adult from deep down inside as I entered the magic shop. On any other day, I would have swept Dawn up in a big bear hug or tickled her into fits, instead of watching her touching idols she wasn't supposed to be touching and hoping she'd turn away before I did this. If it had been a normal day, I would have teased Giles on his lack of customers instead of being grateful he was on the other side of the store and couldn't stop me. And Buffy ... 

Let's just say I would have been more interested in the highlights in her hair than the stake on the table next to the book she studying from. 

I tuned everything else out but Tara, standing behind the counter, her head bent over a history book. 

So I didn't hear Buffy offer up a hello, and I didn't notice Giles as he saw me take the gun from my pocket. 

I just walked right up to the counter, and fired. 

************************** 

"Oh, God ... oh, God ..." 

"You s-shot me ..." 

"Xander! What'd you go and do a bloody stupid thing like that for?" 

"Tara! Tara, please don't die." 

"Calm down, Dawn. Do me a favor and go get a blanket out of my car." 

"Mr. Giles --" 

"And turn over the "Closed" sign!" 

"Mr. Giles, it hurts." 

"Don't worry, Tara. It won't hurt for much longer." 

Everything was all muffled, coming at me as though I had a pillow over my head. I couldn't see anything past Buffy, whose elbow was jammed firmly against my neck as her knee dug into a very uncomfortable place. She sat on my chest and stared down at me with fire in her eyes, her elbow burrowing deeper as she spoke. 

"All right, monkey boy," she said. "What are you, what did you do with the real Xander, and how many pieces would you like to end up in?" 

The real Xander? Which Xander did she want, the one she knew or the cold-blooded killer? 

"Buffy, that is the real Xander." 

"Mr. Giles, aren't you going to call an ambulance?" 

"No. It'll be fine in a moment." 

So, he had known. Why was I not surprised? 

Buffy's loose blond hair hung down around her face as she leaned down closer to me. Funny, I'd had dreams where she'd been in that exact same position ... which you won't be hearing about. 

"The real Xander wouldn't hurt a fly, Giles." 

Oh, really? I seem to remember eating a spider and dating a praying mantis. 

"Whatever it is, it can't be Xander." 

I've got DNA that would have proven her wrong, you know. 

"Something's not right here." 

Something hasn't been right in my life for a long time. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the situation hit me. What the hell would Willow have thought if she had walked in at that precise moment? 

And I just ... I just started laughing. 

I couldn't help it. It was that hysterical laughter that bubbles out of your system when everything in your life has just turned into a real-life nightmare, the kind you can't stop no matter what you do. 

And past my laughter, Tara's nervous tears got louder as the bell over the door sounded. 

"I-I got the blanket." 

Dawn's scared face drifted past my field of view, staring at me as I were the beloved family pet and I'd just bit the baby. 

I kept laughing, and Buffy punched me. Again. And again. 

I knew I was bruising up something fierce, and even as I realized that, I also realized from the expression on Buffy's face -- amazement and confusion and something like fear swarming into one -- that the bruises were vanishing as fast as she was putting them there. 

I stopped laughing the instant I felt Buffy's weight being yanked from on top of me. As I felt my head start to clear and whatever bruises were left finished vanishing, I could have sworn I heard what sounded like the crackle of a static electrical charge, the fuzzy white noise of a snowy TV station. I rubbed at my face as I stared up at Giles, who had Buffy's wrist in a firm grip. Her fist was still balled up, ready to strike. 

"Not to ruin your obvious enjoyment," Giles said, glancing at me quickly, "but that is the real Xander. And if you haven't yet noticed, beating the life out of him isn't going to work." 

"Well, it might," I started, then froze at Giles's glare. "Right. Shutting up." 

Dawn's pained voice came from the other side of the counter. "Uh, guys --" 

"No, it can't be," Buffy said, her eyes starting to well with tears. Aw, man ... "He just ... it can't be Xander. He can't be --" 

"Uh, guys --" 

Buffy froze. "What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be over there with Tara? Oh, God, she's not dead, is she?" 

"Where's Tara?" 

All eyes turned to Dawn, who was barely holding herself together. She kept looking down at the floor, and then back at us, and even as Giles and Buffy moved slowly towards the counter, I knew what they were going to find on the other side. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Damn. And here I'd been hoping they'd find Tara dead. Now, that I could have handled. 

**************************** 

At that point, there were three things I didn't know. 

I didn't know about the big bottle of headache medicine Cordelia was keeping on hand or the continuing wave of painful visions she was having about me and Tara, not to mention the future of humanity. 

I didn't know about the Immortal headed my way with his adopted infant daughter in tow. 

And I didn't know that in an unmapped tropical island somewhere in the South Pacific, a guy not much older than myself named Adam Newman was about to find Tara's lifeless body floating in the ocean. 

All I did know was that I had a lot of explaining to do. 

****************************   


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	4. Prayer for the Dying -- Chapter Three

**Converted by Text2Web**

  
Author's note: Sorry I haven't gotten this done sooner, but work and real life got in the way. Trust me, I'll keep writing this ... it's my diversion from the professional writing stuff. :) 

***************************** Chapter Three ***************************** 

"Prove it."* Do you have any idea how painful those two words can be? 

And I wasn't being all figurative, with the distrust and the broken friendships. I was being literal ... really, really literal. When you tell anyone that you're Immortal, they usually say, "Prove it." And you usually have to drag out a big-ass knife and slice up your arm just to prove yourself right. 

Which I did. And ow. Just ... just ow. 

After I'd wiped up the blood and picked up everyone else's gaping jaws off the floor, it took something like twenty minutes to get through the whole story, a lot shorter than I'd expected. 

But still, no Tara. 

Giles, Buffy and Dawn kept glancing over their shoulders towards the counter, as if Tara would pop up any second now and stutter a "S-surprise!" Plus, they continually looked at the front door, like they were waiting for Willow to show up and smell trouble, or Anya to come in with a straitjacket and a registered nurse. 

No Tara. No Anya. No Willow. 

And no help. Thanks, ladies. Really. I mean that. 

I stopped talking as soon as I got to the part of the story where I let Cordelia talk me into this wild and crazy scheme -- 

*Okay, first you have to shoot Tara.* 

-- before it hit me that fully that Willow and Anya weren't there. 

*And you have to do it in front of the Scoobies. All of them.* 

I wondered briefly if them not seeing Tara "die" would affect Cordelia's vision of the future. It couldn't do that much damage, could it? 

Oh, God, those are famous last words, aren't they? 

Giles and Buffy kept staring at me, Buffy not taking her glare away from me, Giles looking at me in almost disbelief. Yeah, that's what it was. Like he couldn't believe I'd finally come out of the Immortal closet. Me neither, crumpet boy. 

Dawn, meanwhile, was still working it out in her head. After a minute of silence, she finally said, "Okay, so let me get this straight. You can't die. Tara can't die. Unless, you know, someone gets all choppy on your neck. Right?" 

I nodded. 

Frowning, she reached out and touched my sword, which I'd placed on the table ... I don't know, as proof, maybe? I mean, it's not exactly like they hand out Immortal Membership cards and secret decoder rings. "So, how do you fit that under a coat?" she asked. 

Giles groaned and rubbed at the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was frustrated. "Dawn ..." 

"What? I couldn't have been the only one wondering about that." 

Buffy, meanwhile, just kept staring at me, as if I'd grow horns or a tail or something and she didn't want to miss it. I don't think I'd ever seen her look so serious. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

Damn, I knew someone was going to ask me that. "Are you mad at me?" God, listen to me. I sounded like a five-year-old. 

She rolled her eyes. "Please. I just ... I wish you would have told us sooner, that's all. I mean, up until now, you've been Most Likely To Puncture a Major Organ. We worry about you." 

"You do?" The others nodded, and I grimaced. "Ah, so this is what it feels like to wallow in the kiddie pool of guilt." 

Buffy got all pensive for a few seconds before saying, "So, your 'rents aren't, are they?" 

I shook my head. "Teach said no, so I asked Mom. She mentioned something about a truck stop and a newborn baby in a dumpster and that's how I learned there are worse mental images than your parents having sex." 

Dawn made a face, but Buffy grinned, and I could have sworn the corners of Giles's mouth went up just a little. "That's ... good," Buffy said, tentatively. Almost like she expected me to fight her on it and defend the abusive bastard. I mean, most of my friends loved my mom, but my father ... well ... "Your dad just being psychotic and not being related and all," she added, then blushed and said, "Well, I mean, I never liked him anyway. He was kind of slimy. And he always smelled like Coors. So, want me to go sell his kidneys on the black market?" 

See, this is why I love the Buffinator. Because here I was, telling her my father had tossed me down the stairs and killed me, and she was asking me if she could rip out his internal organs. She's just so sweet, isn't she?" 

"You know what? I think the big, pointy thing I kept next to my bed for two years spooked him enough. But thanks anyway." For a split second, all eyes went to the sword on the table. 

"And you never got him arrested for it?" Giles asked. 

"You show me a corpse," I said, "and I'll show you a murderer." 

Giles frowned. I had a point. I don't think he was really used to it. 

Dawn glanced back once again towards the counter. "Is anyone else worried about where Tara might be?" 

"An island in the South Pacific," I blurted out, then did the guilty thing as everyone stared at me. "Cordelia told me." 

"She tell you anything else?" Buffy asked. 

I shrugged. "Just to wait." 

************************** 

Now, here's the thing. Right about this time, Adam had dragged Tara's ... well, for lack of a better word, dead, lifeless corpse out of the ocean. 

Yeah, dead and lifeless. That was where *my* problems started. Adam's started with the sticky situation (for all he knew) of having to tell her beloved friends and family that she was dead. But first, he had to find out who she was, and that meant searching her pockets. 

That was why Evan Roberts came in handy. 

Evan sat next to Tara in her art history class, and two seats down from Buffy. So Tara knew who he was when he'd missed the Monday class, and he knew who Tara was when he walked into the Magic Box on Tuesday looking for a crystal necklace for his girlfriend. Evan needed the notes for class, so he wrote down his phone number on the back of a business card and gave it to Tara so he could get the notes later. 

Surprise, surprise ... the business card was for the Magic Box. 

And with no other clue as to who she was, Adam didn't have much of a choice in what he was going to do with her. So, grabbing onto her, he concentrated for a split second before the both of them vanished into thin air. 

Don't say I didn't warn you. 

************************** 

I've got impeccable timing, you know that? 

I haven't even gotten finished saying "wait" when there's the fresh scent of ozone and this sizzling sound in the big open spot in the middle of the store. And when the initial shock of someone suddenly appearing in the middle of the store wore off, we were confronted by two soaking wet people on the floor -- Tara, who was still out of it, and Adam, who wasn't. 

With an apologetic smile on his face, Adam got to his feet, cleared his throat, and said, "Excuse me, but do any of you happen to know this girl?" 

And that's when Tara woke up.   


* * *

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	5. Prayer for the Dying -- Chapter Four

* * *

  
Prayer for the Dying   
**Chapter Four**   


* * *

_Author's note: Just a setting for the Tomorrow People timeline -- I'm figuring it for Adam being in his mid-twenties and Megabyte being in college. And I don't care if it's off, because hey, it makes for the cute in-jokes. :)_   


* * *

I guess this is the point where I say that we sat Tara down and told her everything. The whole chop-chop-you're-Immortal thing, the truth about Adam and who he was and _what_ he was, the millions of people who were going to die if we all didn't do something. That sort of everything.

But first, a phone call to the girlfriend.

See, Anya I could account for. If she wasn't at the shop, then she was probably shopping at an elsewhere. Which left Willow MIA. Well, as far as I knew.

What I found out later made me feel even worse. First off, Willow was having lunch with her mother for the first time in months. Yeah, you heard me, _months_. Willow's mother should really have had a case study instead of a baby. And secondly, she had chosen that day to say those three special words every parent wants to hear -- "Mom, I'm gay." I'd met her mother. I saw a thesis in her future.

In any event, the others had done the comforting thing where they gave her pats on the back and warm blankets and chocolate, and I pulled Adam off to the side, introduced myself, and promptly spilled my guts. (Not literally. I've been living on the Hellmouth too long, I just had to clarify that.) But after the comfort food and the gut spillage, Buffy, Dawn and Giles had taken off so that the hard part could begin.

So now, here the two of us were, waiting for Tara to get off the phone.

I'd taken a good look at Adam, but I hadn't learned much out of the experience. He couldn't be all that much older than I was. Brown hair, brown eyes, Australian accent ... the kind of guy who probably blended into a crowd. Must have come in as handy for him as it did for me.

We both tried not to look at each other as we watched Tara through the doorway. "No, Willow, I'm fine. I just -- I ruined your shirt, that's all."

She _would_ have been wearing one of Willow's shirts that day. Welcome to my luck, as usual.

"Don't worry, I'll tell you when I get home. So, how'd lunch with your mom go? How did she take it? Well, is that bad? Oh." She finally noticed us staring out at her, and she blushed as she gestured awkwardly towards the receiver in her hand. "Do you guys mind if I --"

I was going to give her a "sure, no problem," but she openly stared at Adam for a second in such a way that I could have sworn he'd already answered her and I'd just missed it.

He grinned sheepishly and said to Tara, "Sorry. I should have warned you. Go on." 

She nodded and carried the phone back into the book stacks, and Adam and I were left alone with our thoughts in the practice area. 

"So," I said. And stopped. It seemed intelligent at the time. 

Adam squirmed. I doubt he was the only one in the room squirming. "_So_." 

"You're the next stage of human evolution."

"Yes. And you can't die."

"No." Okay, now what was I supposed to say? "You teleport." 

"Yes." Adam looked a little more serious. "You have to fight each other with swords." 

"Uh-huh." I tried to think of something else to say. "The next stage of human evolution." 

"You said that already." 

"I'm still going over it in my head." Adam frowned, and I felt like I had to explain myself. "When my teacher first told me what I was, one of the first things I asked was whether or not we were human. Too many years of living on the Hellmouth," I added with a shrug. "He said he didn't know anymore than I did. If Tara's an Immortal and the next stage of human evolution, I guess that answers that question."

There was a momentary pause out of Crocodile Dundee. "We might have a problem," Adam finally blurted out, and as soon as he did, he looked as if he wanted to take it back. Then, for clarification, he added, "With Tara."

That didn't bode well. Then again, most things in my life didn't bode well, so it wasn't a new experience. "What?"

We were sitting on the same bench at the time, and he leaned closer as if he were about to tell me a huge secret. "I was attacked by a shark a few years back."

"What's that got to do with Tara?"

"I had a huge knife on me at the time, and I couldn't fight back."

"Still not seeing the what here."

I was frustrating him, I could tell. I'd recognize that expression anymore. "If you think she's going to be fighting for her life with a sword against your Immortals, you've got another think coming." 

This wasn't some kind of moral thing, was it? It was against the Tomorrow People Super-Duper Secret Code of Honor or something for them to hurt anyone. Was that it? 'Cause in this town, in _any_ town, Immortality basically screwed over a personal rule like that. "Look, you don't understand --"

"No, you don't understand. If she's one of your Immortals, _and_ she's like me, then she's in a hell of a lot of trouble."

Uh-oh. See what I meant about the not boding well? "Why?"

"Because we can't defend ourselves."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Adam sighed and said, "Look, you might be used to protecting yourself, but I'm used to having other people fight my battles ... sort of." The look on his face made me think that he was choosing what he was about to say next very carefully. "Xander, Tomorrow People are genetically programmed not to harm another living creature. We can't."

Okay. Of all the things he could have said at that moment, that was probably the worst thing. 

He kept talking even as my mind started to race with just how bad this could be. "My best friend once said we're lovers, not fighters. Then again, at the time, he was constantly fighting off the attentions of his current girlfriend, so ..." An uncomfortable smile crossed his face as he stared at me, waiting for a reaction.

Which he got.

First, I opened my mouth to speak. Then, I closed it, having momentarily forgotten the English language.

What was I -- what were _we_ supposed to do with an Immortal who couldn't fight?

Finally, after much internal deliberation, I said, "That explains it, then."

Adam's brow furrowed. "Explains what?"

"Do you believe in precognition?" I asked.

This time, his smile was more relaxed. "Look who you're asking," he said.

A click of receiver to phone and a shuffling sound from the shop distracted us, and we both looked up as Tara entered the back room. She watched us so intently that for a second, I was afraid my shy little Tara had vanished when her body had. "So," Tara asked quietly but meaningfully of the both of us, "what am I?"

And cue big knife.

I did mention how much I hate this part, right? Right.

* * *

Do you have any idea what it's like? Knowing you're standing next to Little Miss Prophecy? I'm starting to get used to it.

As Adam and I walked Tara back to her and Willow's dorm room, I kept noticing her looking over at me, with this weird expression I don't think I'd ever seen on anyone else. It took me a long, drawn-out silent time to figure out just how Tara was looking at me.

Like I had all the answers.

Well, not _all_ the answers. She kept looking over Adam the same way, as he walked on the other side of her. I recognized the way the two of us were walking on either side of her, sandwiching her. I'd seen it before sometimes when I'd go out patrolling with the gang. Not all the time, but sometimes ... Buffy on one side and maybe Willow or Riley on the other side. 

Of course, I doubted that'd be happening anymore.

Adam, meanwhile, watched Tara curiously. "So," he asked, drawing Tara's attention away from me, "you practice Wicca, huh? I can honestly say I've never met a Wiccan."

It was almost like you could see her ears perk up. "Oh, really? You're just not l-looking in the right places. We're all over Sunnydale."

"Yeah, like cockroaches," I added. "Or vampires, in Sunnydale's case. Yup, if the apocalypse happened right now, all that would be left in Sunnydale would be cockroaches, vampires, and Wiccans. Crispy, well-cooked Wiccans, but Wiccans just the same."

Adam grinned and shook his head. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation."

I thought about mentioning the conversation I'd had the night before with Cordy, but I kept my mouth shut. Not in front of Little Miss Prophecy.

Speaking of Tara ... "So this Tomorrow People thing, and the Immortal thing, together --" 

Adam and I exchanged a concerned glance over Tara's head. I could tell we were both thinking the same thing -- how much this was _not_ the right time to talk about this. I don't think I'd want to hear about a.) how helpless I was going to be, and b.) my inadvertantly causing a shiny new apocalypse on the same day I'd found out I couldn't die, was the next stage of human evolution, and, as if that weren't bad enough, had made my girlfriend's mother spit broccoli and cheese soup at lunch.

Adam stopped her before she could go any further, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her towards him. "How about we talk about this tomorrow? You've had a long day."

"Haven't we all?" I muttered under my breath.

I didn't think anyone had heard, but Adam flashed me a meaningful look. "Tara, would you mind giving Xander and I a minute alone?"

"Sure," she said, glancing towards her nearby dorm. "I can go up to the room alone, anyway. I'm a big girl."

She started to walk away, but I grabbed onto her arm before she could get away. Pulling her aside, I asked, "Are you going to tell her?"

It was a stupid question, I know, but I asked it just the same. Tara's family had spent so long making her think that she was a demon, evil to the core, that she hadn't been able to tell Willow. Not until her family had shown up, determined to take her away. I knew it had probably hurt her to keep a secret like that from the woman she loved. I doubted she'd try it again with two secrets.

As I thought, she nodded, albeit reluctantly. "I h-have to. Don't you think so?"

"It's probably the best thing. If you have any problems, you can call."

She smiled, then flinched a little. Her gaze drifted to Adam, and her smile widened. "Right. I'll do that."

I moved closer to Adam as he and I watched Tara head into her dorm, both of us probably thinking the same thing -- keeping her safe, keeping her protected. 

Then Adam interrupted the silence. "So? What's up? What aren't you telling me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said. "What was that last thing between you two?"

"We can read each other's minds. Your turn. What do you know about her that you're not telling me?"

I heard a rustling in the bushes lining the pathway, and my hand instinctively reached to my side. "How about I tell you after?"

Confusion filled Adam's expression. "After what?"

"After the vampire in the bushes comes out," I said matter-of-factly.

And that was when the bastard pounced. He was going for Adam, but with the warning I'd given him, the guy had managed to teleport out of the way before Fang Boy could get a hold of him.

The jerk didn't last long, though. He had really bad blood breath on his side. I, meanwhile, had three feet of steel that said he was going down. Guess who won. Go on, guess.

It only took a few fancy movements of the blade to slice and dice the vamp. And like all of the previous nights I'd patrolled alone, glad to be by myself so that I could hold a sword in my hand and not pretend I was an idiot with the thing, I knew, if only for a few short seconds, how Buffy felt during a slaying. Good stuff, that.

When the dust settled -- literally -- Adam came strolling back down the path again, hands in his pockets, as if he'd just been passing by. My guess was that he'd leapt back to where the vamp had been and had watched the fight from the non-prospective-bleeding seats.

He stared seriously at my broadsword as I resheathed it. "I couldn't do that," he said.

"I know."

"Do you see what I'm getting at? With Tara?"

I didn't want to, but I nodded just the same. "Part of her's going to want to get away from every fight she gets into."

"And part of her's going to want to pick up a sword."

I shook my head and rubbed at the back of my neck with my hand. "Ah, so this is Hell. I remember it well," I said, then flinched at Adam's expression. "What?"

"You remind me of Megabyte," he said. 

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"My best friend. He's at MIT right now, getting some sort of computer degree. Personally, I think it's cheating on his part." He glanced around at the college campus around us, his face looking much the way I imagine mine did -- and still does -- every time I got anywhere near a college. Like I didn't deserve to be there, even if it were only for a visit.

He kept talking as he kicked at the pebbles on the path. "He's the guy I was talking about before. The 'lovers, not fighters' guy. One of the other Tomorrow People. We call him Megabyte because one of his powers is that he can do anything with a computer. He hasn't studied in the past two years."

I groaned at that one. God only knew, if there were a college degree available in swordplay, I probably would have done the same thing. "You're right," I said. "That _is_ cheating."

We shared a laugh at that one, but both of us quieted down almost immediately, the severity of what we were up against coming back to us. I couldn't help but look up to the second floor, to the room I knew Tara and Willow shared. Adam's gaze followed my own. 

"We're screwed, aren't we?" he asked.

"I wouldn't say screwed. Lightly molested by Fate, maybe. Touched in a special place by Destiny." I winced at the look on Adam's face. "And now I'm in a visual place."

He just shook his head as we both headed away from the dorm. "Oh, yeah, I definitely have to get you and Megabyte in the same room."

* * *

I needed to practice. Badly.

And it wasn't because I wanted to improve myself or anything like that. It was because I needed to vent, and I had learned that whacking at imaginary demons with a sharp, heavy object is better than therapy. And cheaper.

Why does shit like this happen to me, huh? _Protect her always._ Yeah, all right. I get it now, you big stupid jerk up in the sky.

I found myself wishing I'd gotten out a little vent session with Adam before he'd gone. Adam had said he'd be on the island if we needed him, and that all Tara had to do was call. I was guessing mentally, since he hadn't given me a phone number. I was suddenly so unbelievably pissed at the guy. I mean, what'd he have to do, really? She could obviously already read minds -- not all minds, just a Tomorrow Person's, but that was the point, apparently -- and it'd probably take about five minutes to iron out the kinks with the teleportation thing. 

From the way it sounded, I would have to protect her for the rest of my life. 

What I was just getting at the time was what was in Tara's future. You know what? Let's talk Tara's future. Some Immortal shows up in Sunnydale and decides to challenge her to a fight. She can't fight, so she teleports out. And suddenly she's got an Immortal on her tail for life because he thinks it's something special in her Quickening.

And all because Tomorrow People are a secret.

_Tomorrow People are a secret._

I paused in the middle of my kata, lowered the sword and let it sink in. It was like being hit with a Mack truck. I got it. I understood. 

There are some Immortals out there ... you get 'em interested enough, and they figure out some wacky fun way to whack you and get away with it. So let's say Tara does teleport. Let's say she finds one day that the only way for her to stay safe is to stay on that island until there are no more _homo sapiens_ left. And meanwhile, because of something she did, it's Holocaust, take two, back here in the real world.

I didn't know what was supposed to happen in between Tara teleporting out of her first battle and Tara curled up in the fetal position on a tropical island somewhere, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. 

"Finished yet?"

I turned to see Anya standing in the doorway, and my heart warmed like always. I'm a romantic guy, what can I say? I love being in love with a girl who's in love with me. And the habitual nakedness is not a bad thing. 

"So, you told them?"

I nodded as I turned around to put my sword away. I had told Anya some of what was supposed to happen that day, but not all of it. I'd kind of expected her to be there for it. I hadn't expected to forget she had the day off. "I told them everything but the kitchen sink," I said, then paused. "Okay, my brain just crashed."

Anya walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. "What'd they think?"

"Nothing. They were too busy thinking, 'Gee, where's Tara?'" I felt her start against my back, and I knew I had to explain. I turned in her arms to face her. "I shot her, like Cordelia told me to. And she died. And she vanished."

"Oh. She's not supposed to do that," Anya said, as if I didn't know that already.

"No, most normal people don't."

"Did she come back?"

"Eventually."

It must have been something in the tone of my voice that made her ask, "Is that a bad thing?"

"Worse than you'd think."

She smiled sympathetically and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. After a long, drawn-out kiss, she pulled back and said, "Well, how about we have some sex, and you can forget about it for a little while?"

Ah, sex. Anya's solution to every problem under the sun. Not that it was a bad solution. Far from it. And with the day I'd had ... well, sex, it was. And lots of it, apparently. 

Seemed only fair, really. Something told me tomorrow was not going to be the best day of my life.


	6. Prayer for the Dying -- Chapter Five

* * *

  
Prayer for the Dying   
**Chapter Five**   


* * *

Long after the violence and the vengeance, long after the mayhem and the murder, far too long after that last time I made love to my Anya, I finally got to spar with the Buffster.

She found me in my apartment, passed out on the bed, more from depression than drink, although I doubt the beer hadn't had some effect on me. And when she walked into my room, she was carrying a sword.

A sword, for Christ's sake. I hadn't even picked up my own sword in two months.

"Xander, get up."

No. No, I was going to have to refuse that request. Adam had asked me, and I'd said no. Giles had demanded me to, told me that my job was not going to wait for me, and I told him I'd told them to shove their job up their collective ass and I'd tell him the same if I had to. Dawn had simply cried outside my door. She missed me.

That one had been an almost.

"Xander, you have to get up."

Great thing about being me is, I don't have to do anything.

"You can't stay there forever."

Actually ... nah, too predictable.

And then she knelt beside my bed on the floor, stroked my cheek, and a soft, painful smile crossed her face.

"Xander, please."

Hard to say no to that smile, you know?

* * *

_"Xander, are you home? Open up. I need to talk."_

"Is that Willow?"

"Think so, yeah."

"You need to talk to her."

"Man, I so don't want to do this."

"Xander, she'll need this."

* * *

She told me she'd brought the sword because she'd been afraid. Buffy Summers, afraid. I didn't think that was possible. I was kinda thinking her afraid bone had been removed a long time ago. 

She'd been afraid I'd attack her, afraid I'd come after her with the sword. I'd been holding it when Giles had come. No wonder she thought there was a chance I'd try slicing and dicing the resident Slayer.

She led me out of the bedroom, dragged me out into the living room and gave the couch a good push, giving us a little room.

_Buffy wants me to spar with her._ Do you have any idea how funny that realization was to me right then and there?

"You haven't been to work." 

I laughed at that, and rubbed at the back of my neck like I did when I was nervous. "I don't have to work anymore, remember?" 

Actually, asking her to "remember" that particular fact was merely speculation and expectation on my part. When Giles had so gracefully informed me that I was about to be fired by my employers, I produced a thick stack of documents that shut him up rather quickly.

_I, Maxwell August Tenney, being of sound yadda yadda yadda, and having no other heirs, etc., etc., will all of my fortune, land, Swiss bank accounts, and so on, and so forth, to my ward, Alexander Lavelle Harris._

What can I say? Teach was lonely and rich.

I hadn't told Buffy, of course. But I'd told Giles, which in most cases was close enough.

She squirmed. "Okay, so you can avoid the work stuff. But you can't avoid us."

"Yeah, I've noticed," I said, gesturing towards the kitchen table. Newspapers, milk and bread, Twinkies. Considering I hadn't left the house in a while, you can guess who was getting them for me.

For a second, she looked as if she wanted to reach out to me, but her eye caught a glimpse of my blade, and she froze. "You're hurting, Xander. You can't keep that inside. Trust me, if anyone knows, I do."

I cocked an eyebrow. "And that's why you brought the sword."

"And that's why I brought the sword."

We smiled at each other, that smile you give the other guy when you're ready to play sportsmanlike and you plan on kicking his ass in a very sportsmanlike way.

And then we started fighting.

The next day, I got a complaint from the manager. No more sword fights in the middle of the night. I told him to go screw himself and moved into a nice, big house I bought with Teach's money. But I told him to screw himself in a much nicer tone of voice than I would have the day before.

It was the afterglow.

It was the afterglow of making Buffy break a sweat.

It was the afterglow of Xander Harris kicking the ass of the Vampire Slayer.

That's not to say it didn't take a while. It did. She was still stronger than I was. But I was faster, and I was better. So there.

And I finally got her. I knocked the sword out of her hand and leapt, and before she even knew what hit her, I had. 

I had her pinned to the ground, and I could vaguely remember a time when I might have taken the opportunity to kiss her. But Buffy was ... well, Buffy, and at the moment -- for a long time, actually, that wasn't who I'd wanted.

"You need to see her, Xander." 

* * *

_I open the door, not sure what to say. My mind goes blank, and all I can see is the same quiet little girl who used to laugh at my jokes in the sandbox._

Lame, I know.

"Xander?"

It's all she says, but I can speak Willowese. There's this hurt in there, this pain of not knowing, this "I wish I would have known" that just tears at me. Those big beautiful eyes of hers are staring me down, and for a second, I'm positive she's going to try beating the crap out of me.

And then ... boom. She pounces.

She's hugging me, squeezing so hard I start to wonder if I'm going to get to experience death by suffocation by the end of the night. Somehow, I maneuver the two of us into the apartment, and close the door behind us.

And it isn't until I get her inside that I realize that maybe the tears she's letting go off aren't all because of the lies I've told, but the truth that's out there now.

* * *

You ever have to make up a gravestone?

It took us an hour, all of us, sitting around that table in the Magic Box that had started to become our second home. And occasionally, as we bantered phrases like "beloved friend" and "annoying clerk" around, one of us would glance over at her empty chair, and it was usually me who had to leave the room.

They finally settled on "Beloved." Mostly because it was the adjective that popped up the most in conversation. Me? I was hiding out in the apartment. Figured they could make up a gravestone with the best of them.

This was the first time I was seeing it. Actually seeing it in the place it was supposed to be. Somewhere under there was Anya.

Oh, God ...

I can't do this.

_You can do this._

I can't be here.

_You know, geography seems to be proving you wrong._

She's dead.

_That isn't going to change if you show up tomorrow._

You know how in those movies, where people die in these awful ways and someone collapses in hysterics on and/or in the grave? It doesn't work that way. You don't go nuts. You just ... you just start crying. And then you can't stop. And then you do. You hack and you sob for a while, but you do stop.

You learn something new every day. Why did that have to be the something I had to learn on _that_ day?

* * *

I have these horrible, painful dreams. I'm lying in bed with Anya, and I hear Willow at the door. And I open the front door, and Willow pounces on me like a Tigger. We just hug and hug and hug for the longest time, and I bring out the sword and the knife and we have out nice little "why didn't you tell me sooner?" talk.

And then Willow leaves, and I go into the bedroom, and I crawl into bed, and I go to wrap my arms around Anya ...

Copper and corn syrup. Smells like the first, feels like the second. It's all over my arms, and it burns in a way blood isn't supposed to burn.

Because it's her blood.

And it's coming from the hole in her neck where her head is supposed to be.

And that's the moment when I see the sword.

Damn.

Told you they were horrible.


End file.
